Asking For Her
by Timeloopy
Summary: Suliet fluff - Back before we knew what the incident was, I began this. It assumes that an 'incident' happened before the O6 got back and that it is what made Juliet realize she just might be in love. . .just fluffy fun. But it ends with THE INCIDENT.
1. Chapter 1

The sound rocked the camp – whatever had happened – it wasn't good. It was a testament to how long they'd all lived on this island that half the populace reached for their rifles without a word

. The school children hid under their desks – all part of the drill.

Juliet slid out from under the VW bus and took the towel offered her by the boy who hung around just a little too much. Ben Linus was just a kid here – a kid with a crush – she tried not to let it make her skin crawl. She offered him a weak smile and thanked him before pushing off toward the security office.

Maybe, most people just grabbed their rifles and stuck close to home when trouble struck, but James never seemed to. She told herself he might need backup – told herself that's why she had to get to wherever he was.

She saw Miles sitting at the security desk and her blood ran cold. James and Miles were partners – patrolled together – something was off.

"Where is he?" she said, keeping her voice low and controlled.

"Orchid Construction Site – the Hostiles don't like us messing around up there – you know that," Miles said.

"Have you heard from him? Is he okay?" she pressed.

"Rogers was up there when it happened – whatever it was. I think he's down. Horace rolled through here and grabbed LaFleur - said he'd just been promoted." Miles sounded a little bitter.

"Are you saying that James just headed toward the explosion? Toward the gunfire?" Juliet said, ignoring Miles' pout.

She was already making her way toward the gun cabinet. She pulled down an automatic rifle – tossed it toward Miles who caught it and swung it over his shoulder. She took another for herself and strode toward the door.

"You're going to blow our cover, Juliet. He won't like that." But he followed her anyway.

By the time they got to the construction site, people were swarming over what was left of the foundation like ants – trying to see whether any of the rubble was salvageable.

She stood stunned, closed the door of the jeep – people everywhere but not the one she was looking for - she was here to back him up, that was all, she had to find him. She couldn't explain why her throat was constricting, why her eyes burned. She was just here to help. It wasn't anything more.

She felt a hand on her shoulder and turned to see Horace. He took off his glasses and offered her a kind smile. She bit the inside of her cheek – steeled herself for a blow. Horace had brought him up here and here was Horace alone – and that comforting smile made her want to scream.

"There was a second incursion." Horace said – straight to the point. She appreciated that. "LaFleur stepped up and took charge, chased them back into the jungle. He's demanded a meeting with Richard Alpert and they're supposed to be sending him. He did good work here today, Juliet."

Why did it sound like condolences? He was okay. He had to be – nobody that stubborn could die. She wished she hadn't let herself think the word. She struggled to bring her thoughts around to anything else – anything at all.

She noticed them all looking at her sympathetically. Why were they doing that? They weren't looking at Miles that way and he was supposed to be part of LaFleur's crew too.

She had noticed them erecting a tent when she first pulled up. As she turned away from these sympathetic eyes, she realized it was a medical tent. She saw them carrying stretchers inside – saw the doctor barking orders.

"I was a medic," she said, looking back to Horace. "In the army – I was a medic – I may be able to help."

Her voice wasn't steady which irritated her. She strode purposefully toward the medical tent. Horace caught up to her and caught her arm.

"He was shot," Horace said. "He's in there – they're working with him now."

A woman stepped out of the tent and made her way to Horace. He turned to her as Juliet tried to gather herself.

"LaFleur's awake. He's asking for somebody – he keeps saying 'I need to tell her' – I told him I'd find her – any idea who she is?" the woman asked, her blouse was streaked with blood.

Juliet wasn't sure what she felt in that moment. James might be dying – the person she'd laughed with and fought with during the last six months on this island. The person who'd told her his secrets as she'd told him hers. And knowing all his secrets, she knew who he wanted.

"Kate," she whispered.

"Who?" Horace asked, obviously puzzled.

"His. . ." Juliet paused – what had they been to each other exactly – it never had been clear. "She was his girlfriend – that's got to be who he wants – she's gone though – she's been gone for a while now."

Horace squeezed her shoulder and left her there with her thoughts.

Juliet's eyes were on the door of the tent when Horace came through and motioned for her.

She walked hesitantly toward him. One half of her wanted to run, but the part that won out was the part that needed to see him – at least one more time before . . . She didn't let herself finish the thought.

The tent smelled of blood and sweat – the doctor hustled from pallet to pallet offering what help he could.

She saw him lying on a pallet. There was a lot of blood – blood didn't bother her that much – she'd been a doctor once, after all. But the fact that it was his blood made her stomach twist into knots.

"I need to tell her," he said, and she heard him this time with her own ears.

Juliet made her way to his side and knelt beside him. She reached for his hand instinctively.

"What do you need to tell her?" she asked, her eyes not leaving his face. She thought if she ever saw Kate again, she could pass along his words – whatever they were.

His eyes focused on her face.

"Juliet," he said. His face relaxed.

"I need to tell you," his words were interrupted by a fit of coughing. Her eyes trailed over his chest and she realized that someone had inserted a chest tube – the bullet was somewhere near his lung.

"Tell Kate what?" she asked – a tear trailing down her cheek.

Confusion clouded his face.

"Not Kate. . .Kate's gone," he said. "I need to tell you – that I got promoted."

Juliet stared at him in disbelief.

"Before you die, you need to tell me that you got promoted?"

"Yeah. Wait, no! I'm not dyin'."

"You could fool me," Juliet said, eyeing the bloodstained bandages.

"Nah, too mean to die." That cough again – it didn't sound good.

Juliet choked back a laugh that mainly came from nerves.

"Why did you need to tell me that you got promoted?" she brushed away tears with the back of her hand.

"Never got promoted before," he said. "Had to tell somebody. You're the somebody I wanted to tell."

It meant something to her. It meant something to her, because she could see in his eyes that it meant something to him.

"Good for you," Juliet smiled at him and squeezed his hand.

The doctor brushed her aside and slid a needle into the I.V. someone had started earlier.

"We're taking him next. We'll get the bullet out and see how things go," the doctor said to her.

She nodded and held onto his hand – watched his eyelids grow droopy. She surveyed his battered body. The wound in his leg was the worst - she heard the doctor speaking to the nurse in low undertones about how much blood he'd lost when the artery was hit. But there was another bandage on his chest - probably where the cough was coming from. As a doctor, she was skeptical but as a woman she hoped against hope for a miracle.

"Comes with a house," he mumbled as he slipped away. "Wanted to ask you . . . .something."

He was asleep and they carried him away to remove the bullet.

Juliet Burke sat on her knees in the middle of the Medical Tent and did something that was rare for her. She simply waited. She waited to hear the rest of that question because she was pretty sure that she had his answer.


	2. Chapter 2

Juliet stepped into the processing center that had been turned into a makeshift hospital ward and took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the lower light. Her eye immediately gravitated to the third bed on the left but it was empty at the moment.

_That's a good sign right? Means he's up and around. Means he's not in traction any more. Means. . ._

She jumped when she felt a hand on her shoulder.

" Mrs. LeFleur." The young woman in Dharma scrubs was new to the Dharma Initiative.

"That's not my name." Juliet looked at her in confusion. "I'm Juliet. I work in the motor pool. Juliet Burke."

The young woman flushed. "Oh, I'm sorry. I thought. I mean, you're always. I mean, I . .."

Juliet heard a deep throated chuckle behind her and turned to see James smirking at her as he balanced on his new crutches.

"That for me?" James said, gesturing toward the gift she'd brought and almost losing his balance. He grasped the crutch more firmly and beads of sweat stood out on his forehead.

Juliet reached out as though to wipe his brow then drew her hand back, uncertain.

"You got the hang of those things yet?" she asked instead, the uncomfortable intern forgotten.

"Oh yeah, I'm an old pro," James said wobbling only slightly as he led her back to his bed. "I've been at this for oh, almost 2 hours now. Give or take."

Juliet pulled a stool over next to the bed and pretended not to notice how relieved he looked to return to the bed he'd been complaining about being stuck in only the night before.

"I should have thought of that," James said, laying the crutches beside the bed and leaning back on the pillow. "Juliet LeFleur. Has a nice ring to it."

The color drained from Juliet's face but James didn't notice because since his eyes were closed. The silence though – that he noticed. He sat up and looked at her.

"You alright, Jules?"

"I. . . I'm fine. What did you say?"

"I said, I should have thought of that." He yawned then offered a teasing smile. "Would have made a nice cover story. Jim and Juliet LeFleur – Pirates of the Carribean."

Juliet's answering laugh was a little too loud and she bent to focused on the gift in her lap to settle her nerves.

_He's joking. That's all. Typical Sawyer. It's all just a con – just a way to get them to let us stay and wait for Kate to come back._

"Jules." He interrupted her thoughts and she looked at him.

"Are you sure you're okay?"

"I'm fine. I should be asking you that. You're the one that nearly lost your leg saving the Dharma Initiative." She tried to keep it light but her voice betrayed her concern. The severed artery had spilled enough of his blood that even when the surgery was over the doctor hadn't offered much in the way of optimism. But he'd survived the night and then the next day and the next. Now, he was up and around though his color was still more on the gray side than she'd have liked.

"So what's in the box?"

Juliet handed the box over and watched as he untied the ribbon and opened the lid.

"It's a. . . what is it exactly?"

"It's macramé." Juliet bit back a smile.

"Macramé?"

"Yes, Macramé." Juliet reached over and pulled the brightly colored woven strands out of the box. "To give you something to do while you recover."

"Macramé." James laid a hand over Juliet's to halt her progress in removing the contents of the box. "Juliet, I am not. . . I repeat NOT. . . doing macramé."

The look on his face elicited the first genuine laugh Juliet had experienced since his accident.

"It's not funny."

Juliet laughed harder.

"I'm laid up in the hospital with my leg hanging by a thread and she laughs at me." He threw up his hands.

"It's just the look on your face. You look like. . .I dunno. . .you look like I just asked you to put on a tutu and dance."

"I'd sooner put on a tutu and dance than do macramé but don't go getting any ideas."

The young nurse from earlier walked over and laid a finger over her lips.

"I'm afraid you're going to have to keep it down over here."

Juliet swallowed back her laughter and nodded -a chuckle spilling out after the nurse turned her back.

"You're getting me in trouble with the warden, blondie."

Juliet rolled her eyes.

"So what do you plan to do to keep yourself busy while you recover? Since weaving and ballet dancing are out."

"I wanted to talk to you about that actually." James face grew serious. "I don't know if you remember or even if I said it out loud. But before I went into surgery, there was something I wanted to ask you."

"I remember." She said softly.

"Thing is. . .the way you reacted to that joke about your name. . .now I'm not sure. . ." He searched her face as though he hoped the answer to his question would be written there. She wasn't sure what he read there, but he focused his attention on his hands as he continued to speak.

"I guess, I'll just spit it out. I got this promotion and it comes with a house. Like a whole house. . .not just a room to bunk in."

"Sounds great."

"Yeah. Yeah, I thought it sounded pretty good too." Pride crept into his voice. "I mean, I must've done something right if they're giving me a house, huh?"

"I think you do more things right than you give yourself credit for."

He met her eye now.

"Well, the thing is. I was kind of hoping that I wouldn't have to stay there by myself."

"I thought that was the point. That you wouldn't have to bunk with anyone – a little privacy right here in the D.I."

James closed his eyes and wondered if she was deliberately misunderstanding.

"Well, yeah. Privacy. That's the thing. See. I."

"Spit it out James. You want me to help you move your stuff?" Juliet asked.

Now he took a good look at her and knew she was toying with him.

"You know what I want." James said, narrowing his eye.

"Not unless you tell me," Juliet said, picking lint off the blanket on his bed. "I mean, I thought you'd like macramé."

She stood up and sat down on the edge of his bed. "What do you want, James?"

He took her hand and studied it as he collected every ounce of courage he could muster. His eyes trailed up her arm and paused appreciatively at the graceful line of her shoulder. His eyes moved over her lily white neck and the tantalizing curve of her jawline and landed on her lips which he brushed his fingers across bringing a flush to her cheeks. She was so beautiful in that moment that he was pretty sure he could die happy if he could just look at her every day for the rest of his life.

"Well, first. I want you to kiss me." James voice was deep and his eyes burned into hers when she looked at him in surprise.

She hesitated only a moment before she bent and tentatively brushed her lips over his. But before she could get away, his hand cupped the back of her head and pulled her in for more.

When she came up for air, she saw the nurse staring at them with disapproval again.

"You're gorgeous when you blush." James said.

"What else do you want, James." Her voice was vaguely breathless.

"I'll tell you after you move in with me," he said, gauging her reaction.

"You want me to move in with you," she repeated.

"We can say it's to help me recover if you like, but that's not the real reason."

"No?"

"No." His eyes were both demanding and vulnerable.

"When do you get out of here?"

"As soon as I can master these crutches."

Juliet cleared her throat and walked around to the other side of the bed. She reached down and picked up the crutches from where he'd dropped them earlier.

"Then we'd better get to work," she said with a smile. "I think I might enjoy a little privacy now that you mention it."

_Author's Note: _

_Sorry it took so long to get this one up. Let me know if it's going in the right direction or whether I've gone astray._


	3. Chapter 3

"That's what I like about you, Blondie. You're efficient."

Juliet looked up from the box of lingerie she'd been placing into the dresser drawer. She rolled her eyes and continued the task.

"If you're well enough to stand there and leer, maybe you're well enough not to need a nursemaid," she countered.

James swung into the room as though the crutches were part of him. He flopped onto the bed.

"I don't need a nursemaid. Why'd you put my stuff in the other room?" he asked, picking up a garment made of pink lace from the box she was working on. She snatched it away and tucked it safely in the drawer.

"I assumed since it's your house, you'd want the master bedroom." She set the box on her lap out of his reach and continued working.

"I don't mind sharing." James trailed a finger down her arm and smirked when she jerked it away.

Juliet thought about ignoring him again but instead she set the box on the floor and turned to face him.

"Isn't this all moving just a little fast?"

"What? No. I thought you understood that when I asked you to move in, I meant as in live together. As in share the same room – the same bed. As in. . ."

He leaned in and it took all the restraint she had to stand up and leave his lips touching only air.

"We've shared a few kisses, James. It's not that I don't want to do this. It just feels like we're skipping some steps."

James stared at her. Now it was his turn to roll his eyes.

"We've done more than share a few kisses, Juliet."

"Drunken groping in the jungle doesn't count."

"I wasn't drunk. You were. Besides what about that night we found the place where your ex met his maker? You were sober as a judge that night."

"I was vulnerable - looking for comfort – you were. . . .handy."

"I was HANDY?" Sawyer sputtered and heaved himself to his feet, dropping one of the crutches in the process. "And what? You needed a little maintenance?"

"You're taking it out of context. It's not that I don't care about you. I do. And before you bring up the morning on the beach, it doesn't count when you cried yourself to sleep the night before over Kate either. I just felt sorry for you."

"So I was handy and you felt sorry for me! Is that why you agreed to move in with me too? Because you felt sorry for poor old crippled up Sawyer."

"I've never called you Sawyer," she spoke softly. Their eyes met and something honest there almost broke down their defenses. "I just think we're moving too fast. It's just. . ."

"It's just that once I put myself out there and asked you to move in with me, you suddenly got cold feet. Well, don't do me any favors. I hope you enjoy your room," he snapped.

They glared at one another in silence.

"Isn't this the part where you're supposed to stomp out in righteous indignation?" Juliet asked with fire in her eyes.

Sawyer gritted his teeth and avoided her eye.

"The effect would be ruined when I pitched over on my head because I've dropped that damn crutch," he admitted.

The hint of a smile lit the corner of Juliet's eye.

"Too bad you don't want me to do you any favors, huh."

Sawyer bit his lip and ducked his head.

"Just hand me the crutch will you?"

A chuckle spilled out as Juliet bent to retrieve the offending item and she handed it to Sawyer like a peace offering.

"Are you laughing at me now, too?"

The chuckles turned into full blown laughter.

"Uh-huh." Juliet managed to get out.

Sawyer took a deep breath but couldn't keep his fit of temper intact. He grinned as he sat down on the bed again.

"Apparently, I need a nursemaid after all."

Juliet sat down beside him and bumped her shoulder against his.

"Does this mean you're going to admit we're moving too fast, too?" she asked.

He ran an arm behind her and pulled her head down on his shoulder.

"Hell, no. I think we're moving at a snail's pace. But I'll give you two weeks." She tipped her head up at him and he grinned. "Someday, you're putting that lingerie in the other room you know?"

She stretched up and planted a gentle kiss on his cheek.

"Someday, I'll take that lingerie out of the drawer and show you what it looks like filled out. But let's take this slow and enjoy it. Besides, the doctor said you weren't cleared for, ah, physical activity just yet. Apparently, you're held together with duct tape and baling wire."

He caught her chin with his finger and raised an eyebrow as he looked at her.

"You asked the doctor when I'd be cleared for, ah, physical activity."

She flushed.

"Oh shut up and kiss me," she said.

He obliged.


	4. Chapter 4

"So, how would it have worked?" Juliet put down her glass of wine and smiled across the table at James.

"What do you mean?" James polished off his wine and reached for the bottle to refill his glass. The cast was gone. The crutches were history. But the pain was lingering on a bit, though he was trying not to show it.

"Let's say someone handed you my file. Not to brag, but I was rich, young, beautiful. And I had an ex-husband who had treated me like crap for years." Juliet shrugged. "Sounds like I was your ideal mark."

James picked up the wineglass and swirled the dark red liquid.

"Nah, you'd have been too smart. For a scam, I liked 'em a little more on the dumb side."

"I was vulnerable. That's almost as good as dumb. My confidence was in the toilet."

"You? I doubt it. You'd have seen through me. Learned my lesson on conning smart women."

"Sounds like a good story."

"Not so much. There was a woman."

"With you, there's always a woman."

"You going to let me tell my story or ain't ya?"

"Carry on. Want to take this to the sofa so you can prop your leg up?"

"Leg's okay."

"Liar. I saw you eyeing the painkillers in the bathroom this morning."

"No point trading one crutch for another. It'll get better. It has to."

Juliet picked up her wine and waited for him to follow. At the end of the day, the limp was more pronounced. And he did a worse job of hiding the pain than he thought.

She sat down on the couch and patted her lap. He dropped beside her and with an effort laid his leg across her. She pulled off his boot and sock and gently massaged his foot – internally wincing at the patchwork of pink scars that hadn't even spared his toes.

"So, this smart woman. She saw through you?"

"Well, I knew she was smart so I played it that way. Let her see through me. Let her catch me in the act. But she had a wild side – wanted in on the con."

"She sounds a little scary."

"I like dangerous women."

"Is that right?" Juliet bit the edge of her glass to hide a smile, but her eyes betrayed her.

"Thing was. It was a long con – had to stay in it long enough to gain her trust. But she was smart enough that it took a while. Almost six months I think. Too damn long."

"You got too close?"

"Maybe. I don't know. Anyway, I should have given it a little longer. . .played it out slow but I panicked. Realized if I didn't get out quick, I was going to . . ."

"Fall for her?"

"Maybe. Didn't give myself a chance to though. Took her money and ran."

He leaned back and set his glass on the endtable, adjusted a throw pillow behind his head, and closed his eyes as the counter pressure from Juliet's fingers did more for his aching leg than painkillers ever could.

"That's why you went to prison?" Juliet guessed.

"She turned me in. I hated her for it, too. Even though I deserved it after what I did to her."

"Because you robbed her blind?" Juliet pushed the leg of his jeans up above his knee and started working on his calf. She thought she heard him sigh a little.

"Because I knocked her up."

Juliet's fingers stopped their magic.

"You got her pregnant?"

"Apparently."

"You stole money from a woman who was carrying your child?"

"I thought you read my file."

"Well, that wasn't in it."

Sawyer's eyes were wide open now but he didn't look at her. He sat up with some effort and leaned forward with his elbows on his knees.

"I didn't know she was pregnant when I took the money. Not that it would have stopped me I guess. Listen, I'm not going to lie to you. I'm not a good person – never have been. I figured you knew that going in – since you read my file and all. But, the truth is that it's worse than that. I've never seen her."

"The child?"

"Yeah. My daughter – Clementine. I told myself that she was better off without me. That no father at all was better than a father like I'd be. So, I . . .I threw some money at the problem and pretended it went away."

"You have a daughter, then. A little girl that you've never met."

"Yeah. I'll understand if you want to leave. Who the hell would want to go forward with things with a man like that, huh?"

He was staring at the floor. He couldn't stand to see her disgust. He couldn't stand to see the moment when she decided he was worse than she'd imagined. He couldn't stand to see her go.

He was surprised when she spoke. Two words that changed everything.

"Me too."

"What?" He turned to look at her but it her eyes were focused on a spot near the front door. Her voice was ragged as she continued.

"Me too. I have a little girl that I've never seen. Well, I saw her the day she was born I suppose but I turned my head away. I knew if I looked that I couldn't do it. That I couldn't give her away."

"You? I don't understand."

"I was young – a senior in high school. I really wasn't one to go out much – a bookworm really. But there was this one guy. . . . I liked him a lot. He was a good guy too. Sweet. Kind. When I got pregnant, he tried to do what I guess he thought was the right thing. He proposed."

"Your ex?"

"No. No, my ex was an ass. This guy loved me. He proposed and it hit me that if I married him. If I kept the baby. No college. No med school. I had a scholarship to Harvard, James. For a while I thought I could do it, but when it came right down to it. . . I couldn't just throw it all away like that for . . . I couldn't be a mother to that baby."

"I see."

"Do you?"

James reached up and cupped her face in his hand. He caught the tear rolling down her cheek on his fingertip and wiped it away.

She blinked back tears as she looked into his eyes.

"I think I love you," James whispered.

"I think I love you, too." Juliet placed her hand over his and brought his fingers to her lips. She gently kissed his fingertips. Her smile was not as brave as she thought it was.

"So," she said – her voice unsteady. "How would it have gone?"

He folded his hand around hers and squeezed it.

"Where did you hang out?" he asked, retrieving the pillow that had been knocked to the floor.

"The lab mostly. Oh wait, I was fixing up an old car in my spare time. Sort of a hobby – a '65 Mustang."

The sofa squeaked as James replaced the pillow against the arm and lay back again. His leg returned to its previous position and Juliet's fingers resumed their magic.

"So, you'd have spent some time at a parts store?" James said, closing his eyes and relaxing into the moment.

"More like salvage yards."

"Even better. I'd have picked up a job at a salvage yard. Gotta make that first meeting seem accidental."

"I barely remember what the guy I dealt with there looked like."

"Because he didn't look like me," James said.

Juliet rolled her eyes and pinched his big toe.

"Ouch!"

"So, we meet at the salvage yard. . ."

[Author's note: Veered pretty far from canon here. But I think these two are a lot alike deep down. They do what they have to do. Even when it isn't pretty.]


	5. Chapter 5

_Author's note: I forgot about this one! The fluffy little suliet I started and lost heart for. . .shall I finish? Oh well, a little fluff on a Wednesday never hurt anything, right?_

***

The coffee was percolating – actually percolating in one of those old fashion pots like his grandmother used to have on her counter when he was a kid. It smelled amazing. And it meant she was awake. He wasn't sure how he felt about that – her being awake – he'd sort of meant to slip away before he saw her this morning. He needed time to think.

Maybe, he could still slip out and just pretend he didn't know she was up yet. After all, it wasn't like they shared a bed last night or any night– despite his best effort. He must be losing his touch, he thought. He crept toward the door and bumped the coffee table.

A wineglass from last night tumbled to the floor though he made a grab for it. It shattered into a million pieces and the miniscule amount of red wine in the bottom of the glass managed to hit the white rug under the coffee table. Great.

"Hey," she said from the kitchen. She didn't come out to see what was happening. Just offered him the greeting.

He closed his eyes and shook his head. Should have put the wine glasses in the sink last night. Of course, he'd had other things on his mind last night. First there'd been the laughing – then the sharing – then more laughing – and then the groping. . .and then the rejection. Damn. He didn't want to face her just now.

"The broom is where?" he asked, not entering the kitchen.

"Hall closet. You break something?"

Why didn't she come out here?

"Yeah, I'll clean it up."

"Good."

Okay, this was just plain awkward. Sawyer moved to the hall closet and found the broom and dustpan and made his way back to the living room. His leg complained as he bent to place the dustpan on the floor near the glass and he winced. He wasn't sure what was hurting worse this morning – his leg or his pride.

"Did it get on the rug?"

"Did what get on the rug?"

"The wine. You said you broke a wineglass."

"No, I didn't say I broke a wineglass. I just said I broke something. How is it you can see me and I can't see you?"

Juliet stepped into the room cradling a cup of coffee – her eyes were rimmed in red.

"I looked while you were getting the broom."

James dropped the broom and crossed the room to where she stood.

"Hey now, what's wrong?"

"Opened up some old wounds last night. That's all," she said with a half-hearted smile.

He reached a hand out to touch her shoulder but she pulled away. "Don't." was all she said.

They eyed each other with hurt and confusion.

"I should clean up the glass,"

"Yeah, so nobody gets hurt."

"Right."

James turned and resumed cleaning up his mess. The one he could do something about anyway. How was it that every time they took two steps closer to each other, something happened to drive them three steps back? That was a song wasn't it? From the eighties.

He started humming the old Paula Abdul hit and was surprised when he heard Juliet laugh from the kitchen.

"What?" he called out.

"That song. That awful, awful song."

"Oh, don't give me that. You lived through the eighties too, Sweetheart."

Juliet peeked around the corner with a twinkle in her eye. "And apparently, we just might get to live through them again."

"Oh, hell," James muttered and Juliet laughed harder. "I'm not wearing pink this time. And absolutely no Miami Vice jackets."

"Only if you promise I don't have to tease my hair up four inches off my head and wear bright blue mascara."

"Did you have parachute pants?" James said as he scooped up the last of the glass fragments and stepped into the kitchen to dump them in the trash.

"I, not only had parachute pants, I had a fluorescent pink sweatshirt airbrushed with my name on the front. I was sooooo cool."

"You mean bad." James grinned. "We were all kinds of bad. Remember?"

"My sister and I did the valley girl speak too. Gag me with a spoon. Barf me up a tree. Like, totally." Juliet slipped into a comically put-on accent that was certainly native to no valley on earth – but it was undoubtedly what a little girl growing up in central Florida had probably thought sounded about right at the time.

"Did you have Kirk Cameron on your wall?" James said, affecting a look of abject shock.

"Actually, I was more into Beau Duke if you must know."

"Do tell," James said, raising an eyebrow and leaning back against the counter. He crossed his hands across his chest letting their nonsense cover over their raw feelings from the night before.

"Oh yes, that accent you know. Just drove me wild." She made a pitter-patter motion with her hand over her heart.

James laughed. "Did you wear Daisy Dukes?"

Juliet cast her glance heavenward and gave an unconvincing shake of her head.

"You did."

"I was like twelve," she protested. "If you're having impure thoughts about a twelve year old then I'm moving out."

"But I was twelve, too. Or actually, if you want to get technical, when you were twelve I was eleven."

"Oh, you were not."

"Was too." He winked.

"For like half a year," Juliet's voice grew high pitched as her mouth dropped open. "We are the same age, James. Don't go acting like I'm robbing the cradle here."

"Well, I never said you were robbing the cradle, Juliet. Hell, I can't get you anywhere near my cradle since we moved in together. If I'd known this was how it was going to be, I'd have let you stay at your old place – at least then we . . ."

He stopped as she flushed. Damn. Damn. Damn. He always managed to say the wrong thing.

"When's your doctor's appointment?" she asked. He looked up – that wasn't what he'd expected.

"Today, why?"

"Because, I just wondered. That's all. You think they'll release you to go back to work?"

"I'm hoping they will."

"Good."

"Yeah, that'd be real good. Anything else?"

"Nope." Juliet walked over to the sink and poured the rest of her coffee down the drain. "See you tonight. It's your turn to make dinner, remember."

"Okay," James replied, still a little confused.

Juliet rinsed her hands in the sink and dried them on a towel. She paused as she walked passed him on her way out of the kitchen and brushed her lips against his cheek. At the door to the outside world, she paused and turned back toward him.

"I don't want any cradles anytime soon, you understand," she said.

"I, uh, what?"

"I don't want any cradles around here anytime soon. So, if the doctor says it's okay. And if you still want to. . .after dinner. . .be prepared. That's all."

"Oh," James said stunned. And then with a grin spreading over his face. "Oh!"

Juliet smiled at him mischievously and made her way to the motor pool. Even from twenty yards away with the door firmly shut behind her, she heard him let out a whoop.


	6. Chapter 6

Juliet leaned over the stainless steel sink at the garage and washed her face and neck. This morning, had she really as good as promised James that they'd. . .she dipped her head back under the cool water as her cheeks flamed. Okay, no big deal right.

I mean, it wasn't like they'd never ever done that sort of thing before. They had. Not when they were sober, but who said they had to be sober tonight? Right?

She turned off the water and reached for a blue towel from the stack on the shelf beside the sink. She patted her face dry and shivered when a little of the cold water ran down inside her jumpsuit.

"Going home," she called to whoever was listening, but she didn't wait for a response. She also didn't go straight home. Why was she panicking now?

She'd already moved in with the guy, right?

And back in the days when it had all seemed sort of casual and carefree, he'd seen her naked – well, mostly naked. Unzipped at any rate.

She suddenly wished she'd spent more time doing crunches and less time drinking wine and lounging around their shared living room discussing books. Not just books. Other things that she hadn't discussed with anyone else. And as she walked away from the garage in the opposite direction from home, she realized that was the problem.

This wasn't casual and carefree any more. This wasn't killing time until Jack and Kate got back which is how she'd excused their earlier indiscretions. This was a relationship.

He'd said he loved her. And she'd said it right back.

She made a beeline for the nearest horizontal surface which happened to be a workbench at the back of Horace and Amy's house. Her knees had gone a little weak under her and she sat down a little too hard – jarring herself back to reality.

The cat was out of the bag. Pandora was out of her box. That ship had sailed. Every clichéd metaphor she could think of raced through her head. That was what happened when you spent your evenings with a man who loved to play with words. You started drowning in them.

The sun started sinking below the horizon and Juliet hadn't moved. And the longer she sat, the harder it was to battle the inertia. If she went home to him – if they made love tonight. There really wasn't any going back was there? Or was it already too late to go back, she wondered. Because she already loved him – and if his words were to be believed, he loved her too.

As the sky faded to pink and then to a murky bluish gray, Juliet sat lost in her thoughts. That was where James found her.

"I've been stood up before," he said mildly.

Juliet looked up and saw that James was dressed casually in jeans and a pale blue cotton button-up shirt – the top few buttons were undone and the sleeves were rolled up a couple of turns. He got a haircut, she thought mildly. Not too short – just enough to take away the fly-away – trapped on a deserted island look he got on occasion. Dressed up for her, she realized as she looked down at her grease-stained coveralls and winced.

"Hey," was all she managed to get out.

"Something wrong? Other than me rushing things, I mean."

"I don't know that you're rushing things."

"You sure? Because after our little sharefest last night, you seem a little uneasy. And then of course, I made dinner and you stood me up."

"Sorry about that," she said. "I just got distracted."

"Obviously," he agreed, sitting down beside her on the bench. "Overwhelmed?" he guessed.

"Strangely, yes."

"Nothing strange about it if you ask me," James shrugged and held out a hand palm up.

She hesitated a moment then laid her hand in his. He squeezed it before resting their hands on his knee.

"Jack's more your type unless I miss my guess," he began then he pressed a finger to her lips when she tried to protest.

"Course, he is. He's a doctor – you're a doctor. He's been married before – you been married before. He performed emergency surgery on somebody I hate on this island – you performed emergency surgery on somebody I hate on this island."

In the waning light, she caught a slight grin on his face at that last part.

"You don't really hate Jack," she said because it seemed safer than any of the things that needed saying.

"I hate him a little," James said. "If you slept with him, I hate him even more."

"I didn't," she said.

"Good," he said, running his arm across her back to draw her closer. "Don't like to think of him touching you."

"I never said he didn't touch me," she teased as she relaxed on his shoulder. It didn't seem so scary with him here beside her – the 'I love you's' and the dark secrets they'd shared – with him here, it didn't seem nearly as scary as when she was here alone.

"See, hate him," James said with a nod which she felt when his chin bumped the top of her head.

"You know what's crazy?" she asked as she reached for his other hand and drew it to her so that she could feel closer to him still.

"Our whole life is crazy, Rosie."

"Rosie?" she inquired.

"Rosie the Riveter – you know with the coveralls and the bandana and all. Kinda hot."

She rolled her eyes and continued her thought.

"It's crazy that some part of me says we can't do this because we're supposed to be in a holding pattern. We're supposed to be waiting for them to come back and rescue us – only I don't want to be rescued any more. I'm not even sure what there is to rescue us from any more."

"Yeah, that's a little crazy. But I'm right there with you. Thing is. . .I'm tired of waiting around for someone to tell me it's okay to live my life again. I just want. . ."

"What?"

"This. You. If we were in Vegas, I'd drag you to one of those little all-night wedding chapels about now – just to make it official."

"If that was a proposal, it stunk."

"In that case, it wasn't." He squeezed her hand and raised it to his lips and kissed her fingers. "You want to hear what I made for dinner?"

"Well, now that you've roused my curiosity. . ."

"Macaroni and cheese. Salad with ranch dressing. And toast."

"You call THAT a romantic dinner?"

"I call that the three foods I know how to make. I guess Jack is probably a gourmet chef."

"Oh, shut up about Jack. Maybe your last girlfriend was all hung up on the good doctor but I'm not. Now you're just trying to pick a fight."

"Is it working? Because being all sweet and making dinner just made you run away. Maybe a good fight would get your blood boiling."

"How does one get married on this island, do you suppose?" she pondered archly instead of answering.

"Maybe one hops on the sub and goes to Vegas," James matched her tone. "Or you know. . .we could probably just tell people we're married and they'd go with it. There are some advantages to the whole hippy-lovefest lifestyle. Although, I'm pretty sure I can get Miles to perform the ceremony if that's what it's going to take to get you to move your stuff to the master bedroom."

"Miles?"

"Oh yeah, Miles is an ordained minister of the church of dead-people talking. . .or something like that."

Juliet laughed and finally began to relax.

"You don't believe me? We'll go over there and ask him right now."

"No." Juliet patted James' arm. "I believe you. That sounds about right actually. If we ever really decide to get married, I'll want to see his certificate of course – to make sure the marriage is legal."

James bumped her shoulder with his. "Now, you're just making fun of me. And here I am bearing my heart to the woman I love."

"There's that four-letter word, again," she said softly.

"Not the first time we've said it. Pretty sure we mentioned it last night – before you got skittish on me."

"And you meant it? It wasn't just the wine talking."

"I meant it, Cap." James said, kissing the top of her head.

"For Capulet?" She looked up at him with a smirk. "As in Juliet Capulet? Does that make you. . ."

"Don't say it. . .the nicknames are my bailiwick."

"Oh yeah, baby. If I'm Capulet – that makes you Monty. As in Montague. As in 'Romeo, Romeo, wherefore art thou, Romeo'" She was giggling uncontrollably by now between the break in the tension she'd been feeling all day and the cheesy humor.

"Yeah, laugh it up. As if I didn't get that all the time from Miles and Jin."

"They call you Monty?"

"They call me Romeo. They have a whole bit about it – something about LeFleur by any other name – oh, it's hilarious."

Juliet tried to bite back a giggle and only half-succeeded.

She stood up and held out her hand to haul him to his feet. The limp was much less pronounced now, though she noticed it because she was ever conscious of it.

"Let's go home," she said. "And after I get cleaned up. Maybe we could go to the cafeteria for dinner."

"I'm wounded that you don't want mac and cheese after my valiant efforts at culinary delight."

"I'm sure it was great when it was hot," she assured him. "It's my fault it got cold. . .I'll make it up to you."

"Yeah, you make a lot of promises but I'm still taking cold showers last time I checked," James said, leaning over to kiss her cheek playfully. "I really do love you."

"And I love you, too," she said and for some reason, that didn't seem as overwhelming as it had a few hours ago. Somehow, now it just seemed right.

***

_Author's note: Thanks for the reviews! I wasn't up for a love scene just yet. If anyone would be willing to bet- read the upcoming love scene, let me know. Not my forte' . . .if I have a forte'. _


	7. Chapter 7

_Author's Note: If you want a happy ending, stop after it says the Oceanic 6 came back. Also, I skipped getting someone to beta read so if you spot something, feel free to pm me and I'll fix it. Trying to finish these multi-chapter fics off before the new season. Thanks as always for the reviews! _

***

The chalkboard at the door to the cafeteria proclaimed the night's menu: Macaroni and Cheese.

Juliet laughed out loud and James shook his head in defeat so she caught his hand and drug him off in the direction of the house they were well on their way to turning into a home. She pushed open the screen door without letting go of his hand. But before she could step across the threshold, he swept her up into his arms and caught the door with his foot so that it didn't swing shut.

"What's this?" she giggled as he pressed his forehead to hers and winked.

"Hush, you'll ruin the moment." He caught her eyes and leaned closer. She could feel his warm breath on her lips and smiled for a second before he gently pressed a kiss onto her waiting mouth.

She locked her arms tightly around his neck and he stumbled through the house to the master bedroom where he dropped her onto the bed and fell onto the quilt beside her.

"Impressive," she grinned. "For a man with only one good leg."

"I got two good legs, sister," he said as he removed his boots without taking his eyes off of her.

"Is that right?" she raised an eyebrow and rolled over to straddle those two good legs. She ran her hands over his shoulders and any sign of innocence in her eyes dropped away. Her fingers sought out the buttons of his blue shirt but he caught her wrist and kissed the tender skin at her pulse point.

She sucked in her breath. Had anyone ever done that before? If they had, they'd lacked his skill because she could feel every ounce of tension melting from her body. Her knees relaxed and she settled onto his lap, closing her eyes as she released the breath.

His lips trailed up her arm to the edge of the lightweight blue silk peasant blouse she'd traded her jumpsuit for. He turned his cheek and rubbed it against the soft fabric before he turned his attention to the tempting skin at the hollow of her throat.

She pushed closer to him and his hand that was on her knee trailed up her thigh and settled at the edge of the lacey panties that he'd teased her about showing him so often. He ran his finger lightly under the elastic and she pushed away from him for a second and brought her face back up to hers where the kiss this time wasn't so much gentle as hungry.

More of him. Between kisses, she forced herself to find those damn buttons again. Working frantically at the first two and kissing the skin that they had hidden. Then, growing frustrated and ripping the last few apart. One of the buttons popped off and bounced across the floor with a light tapping sound that made him laugh.

But then he was flipping her over and throwing his shirt in the direction the button had gone. He caught the hem of her blouse and pulled it over her head, sighing contentedly as he surveyed her milky skin in the soft moonlight through the window. She reached up and ran her finger over first one scar and then another. It was a miracle he was alive.

He kissed her lips again, then her throat, then ran his tongue lightly around the edge of her bra. She pulled his head against her breast and he used his teeth to pull the lace aside so that he could get his mouth on her. As his teeth nipped at her breast, she moaned and fumbled with his belt. Sliding it free of his belt loops and dropping it off the bed, she felt his hand under her skirt - on her knee then sliding up her thigh and ripping away the panties he'd claimed he wanted to see.

He didn't even glance at them. He stood up and pushed his pants and boxers down over his hips and she rolled over onto her belly and traced over his abs as he clumsily stood on one foot and then the other to get rid of the last of his clothes.

Her fingers traced the lines on his stomach, lower and lower, until he quivered under her touch. He grasped her upper arms and pulled her up onto her knees where he could kiss her again. Then with a frustrated grunt, he gave her a light push so that she was on her back again and he pulled her skirt off, leaving it in the growing pile of clothes that were accumulating at his feet.

Her breathing was labored but she forced herself to lie still. Waiting for him, while his eyes drank her in and then clouded with desire.

He lay down over her slowly, her skin warming to his touch. And he placed a hand on either side of her face and she thought he could see to her very soul.

"I love you," he whispered as he entered her.

And somewhere amid the wave of pleasure that washed over her, she hoped that she remembered to answer.

***

She made him breakfast the next morning. And he made her breakfast the morning after that.

Eventually, Miles and Jin stopped expecting to see them in the cafeteria. It wasn't a big deal – it was just the way it was. People started saying Jim and Juliet like it was one word – like people do when two people seem like two halves of the same whole.

Until the day the Oceanic 6 came back.

***

He took her for granted.

She let her insecurities get the better of her.

Don't you dare leave me, Blondie.

I'll always love you.

***

Kate sat on the beach sobbing as Jack approached and laid a hand on her shoulder.

"Are you alright?" he asked.

"Me? I'm just great," she said almost hysterically. "It's him."

"Sawyer?"

She nodded this time, swiping at the tears.

"He's tough. He'll get through it."

"I don't think so, Jack. Not this time."

"Why not?"

"He's losing his mind, Jack. We shouldn't have come back here."

"It'll take time, Kate. But he'll be okay. What make you think he's lost his mind?"

"Because she's dead, Jack. Juliet's dead." Kate's words fell like an accusation on Jack's ears. "And he keeps asking for her."

***


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